


Them

by PastelSociopath



Category: Supernatural
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-10
Updated: 2017-11-10
Packaged: 2018-05-10 11:17:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5583781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PastelSociopath/pseuds/PastelSociopath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just some sad poems I wrote a while ago. I might add some more Later</p>
            </blockquote>





	Them

The muses sing the songs of creation  
You listen to the words that have built  
Towers  
Palaces  
Kingdoms  
But you seen to forget that these same words  
Brought the wrath upon Pompeii  
Have spun crowns of gold and thorns making kings weep and angels bleed  
These same words have destroyed love  
The way your eyes sparkle  
How the curve of your lips can make any mortal fall to their knees  
But most of all  
How my fingertips know the curves of your body, better than they know the hilt of a sword  
Your eyes, forged of starlight and gold have found mine, all bite and venom  
You seen to forget that before they whispered my name they screamed it from temple tops   
My only hope is that your lips will never know the taste of my name, for it will forever change them  
As I look around i see that the fire i have set is burning me alive  
And how the only way to destroy a monster is to become one  
Us Gods envy you, you live as if any moment is your last  
It makes you even lovelier that you know you are doomed  
Your body was not made to touch the skies, your fragile bones to weak to hold the weight on your shoulders  
I no longer wish to be remembered for my battles, but for being the one to love you  
But I now fear my time for that has passed  
People ask me what my greatest fear is  
They expect trivial things  
Disappearing  
Dying  
Being forgotten   
But all I can think of is how people fall out of live for the same reasons they fall in love  
How today my scars will seem endearing but tomorrow they will be something to be ashamed of  
My dear life is not poetry and it never will be  
The blood on my temple steps is, and always will be red


End file.
